


miracles are for fables only

by lovethybooty



Series: Valentine's Day, 2016 [1]
Category: Hunger Games Series - All Media Types, Hunger Games Trilogy - Suzanne Collins
Genre: Annie Cresta-Centric, F/M, Mini history lesson, Pre-Canon, Pre-Series, Valentine's Day
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-14
Updated: 2016-02-14
Packaged: 2018-05-20 15:03:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 397
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6013186
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lovethybooty/pseuds/lovethybooty
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Annie does not know much of the old world’s history, nor does she know much of religion, but the name sounds familiar and kind.</p>
            </blockquote>





	miracles are for fables only

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote a Finnick-centric Valentine's Day drabble, so here is my hand at Annie's.
> 
> Sometimes I think Annie should just get to be bitter and mad at the world, because she went through so much- so she's a little salty (as the kids- aka, me- say nowadays) in this. Only with good reason, of course.
> 
> While writing this, I listened to Vincent (Starry, Starry Night) by Don McLean. It really has no connection to the story, but I thought I'd share because I like the song a lot.
> 
> Comments are always appreciated. 
> 
> Lastly,  
> Happy Valentine's Day- tell someone you love them!

Annie does not know much of the old world’s history, nor does she know much of religion, but the name sounds familiar and kind. _Saint Valentine._

She runs across it in one of those ancient, dusty books from Mags’s attic. The leather spine is cracked and bent, dogeared pages ripped and stained. Still, Annie's drawn to this odd little book the most.

A saint, she vaguely recalls, was some sort of miracle worker. But the myths abuela used to tell her of sea gods and fairies all blend together with the stories from the old, big book Mamá kept hidden in her closet and run together in her mind.

Curled up on the window sill in the parlor room, she reads of an Emperor Claudius. A strict ruler who outlawed the marriage of his soldiers, forbidding them to wed their loved ones. Sea green eyes scan page after page and this Saint Valentine, a priest, secretly married the soldiers to their sweethearts.

Eventually, having grown sleepy, Annie closes her book and heads up to bed. Her efforts in sleeping are fruitless, however, as she finds herself restlessly tossing and turning beneath the thin blankets. She sits up, feeble fingers tracing over the pendant that hangs loosely from a chain around her neck. It's a locket, shaped like a sea shell- a gift from Finnick. To have a part of him even while he was away, he had told her.

She thinks back to the story of Saint Valentine and sighs.

Annie's given up on the idea of a normal life, and she knows she will never be Finnick's wife. And, for the most part, she is content in the love they share anyway. She's vowed time and time again to never be greedy and want what she knows she cannot have. Still though, she sometimes can't help but wonder what extra joys life would bring if she could properly marry him.

In her eyes, President Snow is their Emperor Claudius. Finnick is her soldier, Annie his darling sweetheart. The only person from the story missing, she realizes, is a Saint Valentine.

 _But it's probably pretty hard to find a priest to secretly marry you when you’re constantly being watched_.

She decides that tomorrow she'll read a different story. Perhaps one that does **not** speak of Saints, because she is not quite sure she believes in miracles anymore.


End file.
